UKArchive ID: 36363

by dylan
Originally published on March 25, 2016 in Poetry        

An oldie revisited.

In a red sandstone maze,
strewn with litter
and half-remembered vows,

a sliver of jazz
drifts on the edge
of midnight.

Across a band of
smoke-filled light,
tiny moths weave
their intricacies
into early autumn air.

And, as I walk past
a sadness of empty tables
scattered on the walkway,
I look for ghosts among
the newly-dead conversations
which echo down
the yellowing darkness.

Somewhere a cock crows

and every movement,
every person,
is almost you
until they become strangers.

© dylan (dylan on OLD UKA)

UKArchive ID: 36363
Archived comments for Almost

franciman on 25-03-2016
Pure dead brilliant, John.



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Supratik on 25-03-2016
Well deserved nib. Ah the last four lines! Supratik

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Mikeverdi on 25-03-2016
You know how I feel about this one, some of the best modern poetry I have ever read. Thank you for returning. You write in a style many,including myself, would try to emulate…but fail to get close.This is the bench mark for me.


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Gothicman on 25-03-2016
Yes, anyone who loves good poetry would eventually have returned repeatedly to read all your subbed work and enjoy the fine nuances written with such diligence and care! This one a revived favourite of mine, and therefore now, becoming such!


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stormwolf on 25-03-2016
OMG!!! Exquisitely beautiful. Melancholic, atmospheric and very skillfully written. You raise the bar for us. I love it. Into favs for me.

I can also really relate to this, maybe why it moves me so much.

Alison x

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pdemitchell on 25-03-2016
I dug this, daddio, not just for the atmospheric free-form but for the use of 'sadness' as a collective noun! Excellent. Paul

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sweetwater on 26-03-2016
As there is nothing more I can possibly say that hasn't been said in the above comments, I shall just say ” Wonderful ” Sue.

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